


II. The High Priestess

by heartdyed



Series: Rider-Waite-Smith [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Vampire AU, late posting of old fic, not even vaguely attempting to be canon compliant, ruri is yuzu, story told out of chronological order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartdyed/pseuds/heartdyed
Summary: The second trump of the major arcana, the High Priestess, represents intuition and subconscious understanding; while her presence in a reading can indicate that things once taken for granted no longer can be. (Ruri has a suspicion, and acts upon it.)--She doesn't let him finish.  "You don't have to worry.  I won't tell."  The relief on his face is so clear that it's painful, so painful that she's almost glad to shatter it.  Shun would hate it if she remembered him looking weak.





	II. The High Priestess

Their war-council meetings never last long, before fragmenting— urban warfare on home turf is complicated, constantly evolving. Civilians still eke out an existence in the city, and every move has to be weighed against advantages and disadvantages— collapsing the tower would root out a major vampire base, but in the blast area there's still human occupants. Is it worth it? They can't be evacuated— it will give them away. It wasn't something they'd all ever agree on.

So there's no point. Each cell moves separately— their individual leaders show up, give their intel and their own plans. They don't orchestrate plans together, just avoid being embroiled in other resistance cells. They request back-up if they need it, cells not currently active offer their manpower to others. It should be chaos, but the bonds between comrades and survivors cements them together. The Resistance is constantly shifting, each cell with its own leader, its own mode of operation. There almost isn't a whole, but she'd watched long enough to get a feel for it, a certain _intuition_. 

Watching her brother speak, Ruri is _sure_ something is wrong. 

All Shun ever wants from these meetings is information— he doesn't trust easily, almost not at all. That he's offering their support to others, that he doesn't want them to operate on their own . . . He wants backup for if something goes wrong.

But her brother is always supremely confident in his own skills. Something is _already_ wrong.

She is there at the meeting as a guard, and has every excuse to stay until the end, to make sure all the others have left before leaving her post— and Shun, of course, waits for her. They're alone when she takes him and pulls him aside, out of sight, her hands gripped to his arms.

"There's something wrong, and you're going to tell me what it is." She says without preamble. He winces and doesn't reply, and she digs her nails in through his coat. No denial— he still doesn't want to lie to her. "Well, aren't you going to 'fess up?"

His voice is wounded, "Ruri, please trust me."

The last time she heard him use the word please was never. It's serious. She softens for a moment, and lets go of his arms, and hugs him all the way around his thin frame instead, her ear to his chest. "I do. I know my idiot big brother would rather die than let anything happen to me." She felt him relax, and start to wrap his arms around her too, but she pushed backwards out of his open arms, and tugged him down and stood on her toes to kiss him on his forehead. "But. . ."

She feels him tense, as she finishes her words and drops her hands to step back away from him entirely. "But Shun, you're already dead, aren't you?"

He looks at her and she reaches over to take off his dark glasses, then pull down his red-bandanna, that covers his gold eyes that are wide and slitted, his mouth that's hanging agape from shock, his twin fangs visible. He struggles for works, his mouth working but no sound coming other than a strangled start of her name, "Ru—"

She doesn't let him finish. "You don't have to worry. I won't tell." The relief on his face is so clear that it's painful, so painful that she's almost glad to shatter it. Shun would hate it if she remembered him looking weak. "But if you come back, I won't have to— I'll slay you myself. The Resistance is no place for vampires."

"No— Ruri!" he reaches for her and she steps back again, reaching for her loaded gun, each bullet in the chamber carved of wood.

"I love you, big brother. So I'm going to let you go. Promise you won't make me regret it." She levels it right at his heart through the ribs, her finger perfectly still on the trigger, and for a moment she thinks he won't listen. 

But he does. "I won't." His voice is a bare rasp.

He turns from her, his back slouched like his heart has collapsed into his stomach, and all his weight wants to topple into the earth. He leaves and she wants to tell him that that's _wrong_. Wouldn't he have died for her, while living? When did his priorities change? Shouldn't he be yelling, raging that without him, who would look after her? It's wrong that only _death_ was all it took to change that. She wasn't good enough to keep it from changing that. He leaves, and she thinks about shooting him anyway— he broke his promise. 

She already regrets it.


End file.
